Life Can Be A Little Grimm
by Sar'Kalu
Summary: AU. Life is made up of little moments, good, bad, beautiful and ugly; not to mention a whole lot of Grimm, Wizards, Witches and Wessen.
1. Chapter 1: Everything That Matters is U

**Title**

Life Can be a Little Grimm

Author

Sar'Kalu

Summary

_AU. GXHP. Fleeing the aftermath of a war, Ginevra Weasley and the poor handling of international politics by MI5, Harry Potter arrived in San Francisco with very little to his name and a godson to care for. Finding out that the legends about _Wessen_ were true was simply 'cake icing' to a man who was still learning about his own, magical world back in England. Turns out there's a lot more to being a father, and as a descendant from the Peverell's than Harry had previously bargained for.A tale of love, loss, friendship and everything in between. _

_Life is made up of little moments, good, bad, beautiful and ugly; not to mention a whole lot of Grimm and Wessen._

Disclaimer

_Harry Potter_ is the intellectual property of J. K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books and Warner Brothers Movies and their affiliates. _Grimm_ is the intellectual property of NBC and their affiliates.

Rating

Rated K+: swearing, sexual references and blood and gore. Rating may be subject to change.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter One<span>

Everything That Matters is You

After the war and the fall out with Ginevra, Harry had upped and fled the Blighty, his godson in hand. Landing in America had not been his first choice, but his preference for New Zealand was well known, as was his unsubtle disdain for the Yanks. His various run in's with CIA-MD Agents had him grinding his teeth in frustration and murderous intent for the few years he'd been liaising with MI5 as a 'world-class' auror. Apparently anyone under the age of thirty in the intelligence world was considered to be a rookie at best and a liability at worst. That Harry had proved himself over and over had only grated on magical American/British relations and led to his 'removal' from MI5's active duty roster and to pushing a desk around, up to his elbows in redacted paperwork. He was twenty-one.

Settling in San Fran above a bookshop with its grumpy owner and mangy, yellow-eyed cat, Harry was quick to enrol in night classes at the San Francisco Police academy. While Teddy, his godson, quickly and happily settled into a life as a cheeky toddler who had nothing to worry about as his doting godfather ferried him back and forth from kindergarten to their little flat above the Flinder's Cat bookshop.

Life continued as it was wont to do over the following months, with Teddy throwing the occasional tantrum as he slid from the terrible two's to the equally horrid three's. Harry just smiled, apologised to Mr. Gentry, his landlord, and jollied Teddy up with logic and ice-cream. Sure, Ted was probably a bit spoilt, but Harry, as a previously abused child, had no guiding star in this, making his decisions via instinct and mistake. His final exams were coming up and he knew that things were a bit shaky right now, life had been uncertain for far too long. For both he and Teddy.

By the time Harry had turned twenty-three and Teddy six, the godfather-godson pair had planted deep roots within San Francisco's busy lifestyle, vacillating between school, work, helping Mr. Gentry with the shop and travelling around the state of California by motorbike, rail and bicycle.

Mr. Gentry, whenever he had time and the inclination, would sit up on those nights, two mugs of hot chocolate by the front door and his feral looking cat, Garfield on his lap, purring like a V6 engine. Teddy would go stumbling in, his thick jumper/jacket tangled around his elbows as he cheerfully hollered a 'hello', clattering to a stop at the base of the stairs. Harry would come sweeping in, plucking the half-drunk drink from his godsons hands and tugging the boys' outer-clothing free and hanging them up on the pegs that awaited their return. Mr. Gentry, who had warmed to their presence over the years, would look up from his dusty collection of books and magazines, and smile, holding out thin arms for Teddy, who had by this stage finished his hot chocolate, to fall into for a good night hug and story.

Harry would settle himself opposite, listening to tales of the _Brothers Grimm_ and _Hans Christian Andersen_, smiling wistfully as Teddy made all the appropriate noises of awe and pleasure. Laughing loudly at all the right bits. Then it would be up to Harry to wrestle the boy from the old man's arms, laughing as he did so, Teddy crying out for 'just one more story, please!' and tugging the boy up the stairs to their small, homey flat and settling the sleepy child into his tiny cot beneath the window. His blankets and duvet pulled up to his chin and his hair smoothed back as his godfather told him a story about his parents; and Teddy Remus Lupin would fall asleep with a smile upon his little boy's face.

Harry would stand, watching the child settle himself and relaxing, standing guard beneath the whinging moon and thousand stars, their light winking at him cheekily. Then, with heavy, reluctant steps, he would return downstairs, shooing Mr. Gentry from the sink and taking over the chore of watching the dishes and together the two men would quietly discuss life, the universe and everything. By the time the old mantlepiece would chime midnight, they were laughing over nightcaps of brandy and ice, the tumblers left to stand in solitary when Harry and Georg would retire upstairs, their feet heavy with sleep. And Harry would roll into his blankets wondering just where everything back home had gone so wrong.

**xXx**

Harry stared at his Captain, bewildered by the turn of events that had led him to this moment. On the Captains desk rested a ratty cardboard box, the child inside squalling appallingly as the surround police officers winced and backed away, unable to stand the piercing cries. Harry rolled his eyes, men, honestly. He stepped forwards, scooping the tiny boy up, his eyes softening as he remembered when Teddy had been this tiny, his newborn fists opening and closing in front of the light, trying to protect his eyes from the harsh lights on the ceiling. His hands moved instinctively, one grasping the squirming body firmly, the other cradling the fragile head. He shifted the baby, pressing the little one's face to his chest, and slowly, loosing himself in the moment, Harry relaxed enough to hum the one song that had ever soothed Teddy's night terrors away.

"_Just be still now, and wait awhile_," Harry breathed into the soft tufts of hair of the still quietly sobbing boy. He flared his nostrils, taking in the warm, milky scent of the baby boy, a gentle smile overtaking him unexpectedly. His hands rubbed the thin cotton of the boy's romper, concerned by the feel of the fragile birdlike bones that were too easily felt beneath baby-soft skin. "_And let life come to you, just be still now_," Harry murmured, feeling the baby nuzzle in closer and settle into soft-hiccoughing cries. "_All your dreams, are on the breezes passing through." _The boy quieted finally as Harry leant over, curling his tall frame protectively around the baby boy in his arms and breathed the final lines into the baby's hair:_ "Just be still now, all your dreams, are on the breezes passing through. Just be still now, just... be... still…_"

Harry sighed tiredly, settling the child into the crook of his arm and carefully running a single finger down the slope of the boys nose, smiling as the baby wrinkled his nose up and raised a fist to scrub at his forehead. Harry bent his head, breathing in that milky scent once more before looking up finally to meet the stunned gazes of his colleagues. Harry flushed in embarrassment; no one in the Met knew that Harry had a child as he had quite firmly kept his private and work lives separate. It was the only way he'd been able to function. Most thought that he was single and living the high life; he was only twenty-five after all, no one would think that he was a single father with an eight year old son.

"Wow," Darcy, one of his more persistent female colleagues, breathed. "That was amazing, how did you do that? He wouldn't quiet for anyone!" Her voice, always overly loud and abrasive, sent the baby into a series of whimpers that had Harry clutching him closer and murmuring softly, soothing the child once more.

"I have a son," Harry said by the way of an explanation, his Captain's eyebrows raising in surprise as he did so. "Do we have any clothing in evidence for the little one?" He asked his partner, Jon Dempsey.

Jon shrugged, "not to my knowledge."

Harry bit his lip, staring at the baby that was shivering in cold despite being wrapped in Harry's arms and the _Wizard_ running a good two degree's higher than a normal human. Running a hand down his face, Harry made a decision. Handing the baby to his partner who he knew had three kids of his own, Harry made quick work of stripping off his jacket and long-sleeved button-down shirt, ignoring the weight of his colleagues stares as he revealed thick ropy scars of a special victims case and thinner, longer lines that you saw on people who had seen active duty. Tugging his jacket back on, Harry then spread out his button down on the Captain's desk and took the babe from Dempsey's arms and lay the child on top of his extra-large shirt. Bundling the baby up was simply a matter of practice, which he held in spades and then, before the baby had even known that he'd been separated from the _Wizard_, the child was back in Harry's arms, partially sheltered by his leather jacket.

"You're looking after him then, Anton?" The Captain asked, his voice deep and smooth as he watched his youngest and best agent cradle the infant close to him. Harry met his Captain's level stare and nodded once, and the Captain smiled thinly. At this rate he'd be loosing Harry to Renard over in Portland, not being as cosy with the Chief as Renard was. That, and Harry was getting noticed, for all that San Fran was a big city, Portland was considered to be more important. Of course, Renard being politically connected to 'all the right sorts', didn't hurt. The Captain shooed his subordinates from the room, barring Peverell and Dempsey, and shut the door, sliding the blinds shut.

"You have the full weight of the department behind you on this, Anton," The Captain stated slowly, reminding Harry forcefully of Kingsley Shacklebolt and the soothing way he'd held the resistance together during the last months of the war, before the final battle. The Captain shuffled some papers, not meeting Harry's eyes as he looked for the correct form. "Here," The Captain said, holding out the piece of relevant paper. "Temporary guardianship until an adoption can be filed." At Harry's startled look, the Captain smiled briefly, "I know the look of a father, Anton, and you have it when you look at that baby in your arms.

"Dempsey!" The Captain turned on the tall African American cop, his dark blue eyes blazing. "Why are you still here? Out!"

Dempsey blinked in surprise before realising that the Captain wanted a private word with Harry. "Right, I've got reports to write up… Er, about the kid?"

"Leave it to Peverell," the Captain ordered, staring after one of his more… lazy agents. Cold blue eyes turned onto the Wizard, his nostrils flaring as the predator scent of the baby in Harry's arms mewled in his sleep. "You realise you've just adopted a _Mauvais Dentes_, don't you?"

Harry blinked, glancing between the child in his arms and his boss. "Not really," he admitted, leaning back in his chair. "What does that mean?"

"Well, for starters, it's French for 'bad teeth'," the Captain replied in dry amusement. "You have in your arms one of the most dangerous _Wessen_ species, a sabre toothed cat." The Captain tilted his head slightly, taking in the innocent picture of his most troublesome officer and his new son, they looked almost sweet, lounging in the chair across from his desk. "You've studied them, surely?"

"The _Wizarding_ world doesn't exactly accept the existence of the _Wessen_ world, Jim," Harry snorted in amusement, shaking his head. "Still, I've met the occasional _Wessen_ on my travels in and around the Sunny state." Harry trailed a finger across the bridge of his new sons brow gently, marvelling at the soft skin. He looked up once more, meeting the eyes of his friend. "Why do you ask?"

The Captain thinned his lips, "because raising a _Mauvais Dentes_ is not like raising a half-breed _Werewolf_ pup, Anton!… -Harry," the Captain corrected. He sighed and rubbed his temples in slow soothing movements. "Look, I'm sorry, I'm just concerned. Okay? This is not England or the Continent; this is America, we don't have the same -laws, as they do back home."

"I know," Harry sighed tiredly, sinking into the chair and tilting his head back. "It's just…" He trailed off. Sitting still for a pause, Harry then shot forwards, his boss mildly impressed that the violent movement didn't disturb the cranky child. "Look, James," the Captain met Harry's eyes in a serious stare, knowing that for Harry to be saying his loathed first name that it must be critical. "It's not that I don't appreciate the aid you've given me.

"Hell, I'd be dead in a ditch if you hadn't told me about _Wessen_!" Harry made an aborted move to stand and pace, settling for cradling the child in his arms closer to him. "But, seriously? If I shouldn't be doing this, just tell me!"

James Crawly scowled as he settled back into his chair, staring at Harry with a mulish expression. He could remember that moment three maybe four years ago when the man he knew as Antioch Harrison Peverell stumbled into his office, dressed in one size too big clothing, his expression bewildered as he stared around the bustling office that was San Francisco PD. Crawly hadn't been too convinced that the rookie agent was at all prepared for the 'big, bad world' outside the PD's walls. Yet Antioch had proved himself to be an unfailingly excellent officer.

After close to two years however, it became obvious, as Antioch manoeuvred his way around suspect after suspect, parter after partner, that the young man was not just excellent, but he was equally experienced. It was then that Crawly began to have doubts, suspicions, as he watched his junior agent move through the San Frans' busy streets. His arrest and close count was double that of his best 'experienced' agent who was close to triple Antioch's true age. Finally, things came to a head on Christmas Eve a year ago. Now James Crawly was in 'the know' so to speak. He knew about Harry's true past as Harry Potter. He knew about the abusive ex-girlfriend who had driven his friend from Ol' Britannia across the Pond. Knew all about his status as an orphan with few friends, none of whom he kept in contact with. Yet he'd never known that Harry had a son.

"Honestly?" Crawly finally said, meeting Harry's tired gaze. "I don't know what you should do, Harry. There's not exactly any prior connections that I can draw from between our two worlds. The _Wessen_ and _Wizarding_ worlds are as separate as they come, with only Norms being our connection. A connection that both worlds wholeheartedly deny!" Crawly felt like screaming, finding out about the Wizarding world had been unpleasant. Oh, sure, he'd heard of _Wizards_ and _Witches_, but most _Wessen_ thought that the stories were about _Hexenbiester_ and _Zauberbiester_, not actual wand-waving, broom-flying, pointy-hat wearing _Wizards_ and _Witches_ who could trace their various lineages back to the pre-Roman era!

"Yeah, I know," the British officer exhaled heavily. "But seriously, I can deal with a baby tiger, large teeth or not."

Crawly snorted in dark amusement, "yeah, whatever. Just watch yourself. It's dangerous out there."

Harry stood, shooting his boss a dry look, "beause I was so unaware of that fact."

As Peverell made to leave, Crawly hauled one last parting shot at the man, smirking viciously as he did so: "oh, and Peverell? I want a report on my desk first thing Monday. You have the rest of the week off."

Harry rolled his eyes, laughing as he ducked from the Captains' office. Say what you like about the man, but he was a good CO. Scanning the bull pen, Harry's eyes landed on the panting, heaving form of Darcy Hannover, her dark eyes glazed with lust. Harry hid a wince, swiftly stalking over to his partner and hunching over into his swivel desk chair, the cheap fabric creaking beneath his weight.

"Man, you've really got her wired," Jon snorted. "You ever going to date her?"

"And touch nearly everyones sloppy seconds?" Harry sneered, a measure of his aristocratic training with Andromeda sliding through his voice. "Unlikely."

Jon rolled his eyes, well used to his partners disdain of Hannover and her twittering posse. The dark skinned quarterback's eyes landed on the child that his partner still cradled protectively to his chest, the British officers shirt wound tightly around the tiny bundle. "So, what are you going to name him?"

Harry looked up, startled. "Huh?"

"The kid, Anton, what are you gonna name him?" Jon felt like rolling his eyes again. Honestly, Anton could be so fucking clueless.

"You know," Harry mused, staring into the gently sleeping face of the _Mauvais Dentes_ babe, "I really don't know."

This time, Jon really did roll his eyes. "Fucking fantastic," the cop grumbled.

**xXx**

Harry let himself into the flat above the book shop carefully, not wanting to jostle the newly christened Cadmus Bellamy Peverell anymore than necessary. The living room was empty, Teddy's homework spread across the small coffee table in an excess of mess. Harry smiled at the sight of the sums and spelling sheets strewn across the small space. No matter what Harry asked Ted to do, the boy, now eight, was utterly unable to be any kind of neat.

Chuckling to himself, Harry strode the three steps into the kitchen and paused in the doorway, his eyes on Mr. Gentry as he spooned the red, lava hot mess that Teddy called his favourite meal. Teddy picked up a piece of toast cut into long thin strips, (soldiers, Mr. Gentry called them, the first time he'd taken care of Teddy four years ago) and dipped it into his spaghetti-o's, the red sauce dripping down its length and smearing his cheerfully smiling face. Harry knocked on the wood of the doorway, his tired expression lightening as Teddy spotted him, laughing as he jumped from his stool and tackled his godfathers legs.

"Harry!" Teddy grinned, holding onto his godfathers hand that had settled onto his shoulder. "You'll never guess what happened today!"

Harry smiled, allowing himself to be tugged into the kitchen, the bundle of snoozing baby that was Bellamy held protectively in his arms. "What happened today, Ted?" Harry asked, shooting Mr. Gentry a relieved and grateful look as the older man set a mug of hot coffee by his elbow.

"Who's baby have you stolen this time?" Georg Gentry asked in amusement, accepting the precious burden from his tenant. The baby was small, clearly newborn. His eyes were ringed by dusky purple while tufts of dark brown hair stuck up made from his baby smooth head, his cheeks thin and drawn. Georg tightened his hold on the baby, noticing the other, less immediate signs of abandonment all over the childs' skin. Scratches, scars and malnourishment all painted a picture of abuse and loss. Whoever had left their child behind for the police to find, Georg knew that the kid had found a home in their tiny flat above his bookshop.

Harry, torn between answering Mr. Gentry and listening to Teddy expound on winning three ribbons at the school carnival early today, merely hummed tightly as he took a long sip from his black coffee. He sighed heavily, his shoulders daring of tension as he settled back into the hard wood chair. "That's great Teddy," Harry smiled tiredly, accepting the three blue ribbons that Teddy had waved beneath his nose excitedly. "I'm very proud of you, little man."

"That's not all," Teddy added loftily. "I won the trophy for most improved and best house spirit, too!"

Harry frowned, "I thought best house spirit was awarded to everyone of that house?"

"Well, it is," Teddy agreed, "but I still won it, Harry!"

Harry chuckled, standing up and snatching up his messy faced godson, pressing kisses to the squealing boys' face, trying to avoid the wet, spaghetti sauce patches that spread from chin to ears. "You're so clever, Teddy Bear!" Harry hummed, holding his godson close to his chest. "I'm so very proud of you."

"I know, Uncle Harry," Teddy smiled brightly. "I'm proud of you too,you're the best police officer in the world!"

Harry choked a sobbing laugh, the events of the day catching up to him. "Thanks Teddy Bear, that means a lot to me," Harry breathed, pressing his face into Teddy's messy black hair. Harry set the boy down on his stool once more, straightening the boys clothing as he did. "Now look, todays been pretty rough on me," Harry said, tugging a wood chair closer to Teddy's side and meeting Teddy's bright blue gaze with serious green eyes. "I have someone for you to meet." Harry accepted the slowly wakening bundle from Georg, cuddling the baby close. "This is your new brother, Bellamy, his parents left him on the steps of the police building, they didn't want him anymore."

Teddy looked scandalised, "but why not, Uncle Harry! He's just a baby! He's not a bad boy!"

"No, no, Ted, I know," Harry soothed, running a broad hand over his godsons back, rubbing the boy lightly. "Look, some people out there are cruel and mean, we're trying to find his parents, and if I'm wrong, Bel will go home with them."

"But, Uncle Harry, you're never wrong!" Teddy exclaimed with innocent naivety of a child looking up to his hero. In Teddy's mind, it was unfathomable that his godfather could ever do wrong, that Harry was anything but the very best that the world had to offer.

Harry smiled tightly, "I'm not infallible, Teddy bear, I've been wrong before." Teddy scoffed, disbelieving his godfathers words. Harry shook his head, he wasn't going to convince Teddy any time soon of his fallibility as a human being. "Look, Ted, this is important, okay?"

Teddy nodded seriously, licking his sticky fingers free of red spaghetti sauce. Mr. Gentry, watching the interaction between godfather and godson, picked up a warm face cloth and swiftly attacked Teddy's face, wiping away the sauce and crumbs that had smeared it. Harry smirked at the sight and dearly wished for a camera. It was a perfect 21st photo opportunity.

Harry waited until Georg had finished wiping his godsons fingers clean and removed the messy bowl and plate from the table top before speaking. "If Bellamy's parents want him back, he has to go back," Harry said seriously. "But until then, he's all ours. My son and your baby brother. I can trust you to look after him with me, can't I?"

Teddy gaped at Harry, a broad grin flowing across his face. "My brother? Really and truly?"

"Really and truly," Harry agreed. He watched his godson stare at the tiny face of his new son, watched those blue eyes trace the thin lines of Bellamy's face. The baby was so tiny, half the size of Teddy at his age. Although, heaven knew what Bellamy had been through during the few short weeks of his life. Teddy, while born in the middle of a war, was hardly subjected to anything harsh and the few weeks he'd spent under Ginevra's hand had done him barely any harm. "Would you like to hold him?"

Teddy nodded enthusiastically, his eyes bright with cheer. Harry smiled gently and led the eight year old into the lounge room, settling the baby _Werewolf_ on his favourite armchair. Mr. Gentry followed the godfather/godson duo, settling into his own armchair by the open fireplace, Garfield spread across the back, his chest thrumming with a loud purr. Harry arranged Teddy's arms around the baby, crouching beside his godsons side, a gentle smile stretching his lips.

"He's so small," Teddy breathed, awed. Teddy supported his brothers head carefully, knowing that Harry wouldn't allow any harm to come to Bellamy. He lifted his free hand, running it over the smooth, cotton fabric of his godfathers work shirt, feeling the birdlike limbs that were wrapped tightly beneath the shirt. He then traced Bellamy's face, the swoop of his brow and the gentle smooth line of his nose and lips. His dimpled chin and thin, but rounded cheeks. This was his brother. His. _His_ _only_. _His responsibility_.

Harry watched his godson carefully get to know their latest familial addition, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction as Teddy began to whisper his plans for the future. Promises, assurances and deep vows of protection, love and responsibility. Harry'd known that his godson had wished for a brother, but he hadn't known it was deeply avowed and precious to him. Sorrow panged in his chest, Harry too had wished for more children, but with his job and the threat of Ginevra following him, tracking him down, made it impossible for more children to be added. Bellamy was in danger already, but Harry was already attached, unable to think of the boy going anywhere else. No, Bellamy was a Peverell, in name and soon in blood.

"You've done well by that boy, Harry," Georg said calmly, his wizened voice reedy and thin. Watery blue eyes met Harry's strong green and once again thanked the Almighty Father for sending this man and his son to his apartment. They had given him a family. A home. The bright laughter of Teddy during the evenings warming his very soul, while Harry's steady assurance and quite faithfulness had reminded him that life wasn't all pain and anger, but also pleasure and love. The addition of Bellamy would make things cramped but even more lively. A thought that warmed him right through.

"Thank you Georg," Harry said quietly, his eyes soft as he watched his boys get to know each other. Bellamy slowly wakening, his baby blue eyes fluttering as they met the cheerfully joyous blue of his big brother. Teddy pressed his face closer to Bellamy's, his face delighted at the sight of the baby awake and able to recognise him. Harry watched carefully, expecting Bellamy to hiccough or cry at the sight of Teddy, but he didn't, instead staring at the boy with obvious curiosity.

"Hello Bellamy," Teddy grinned, his smile gap-toothed and delighted. "I'm your big brother, Theodore, but everyone calls me Teddy! You can too!"

Harry smirked at the sight, "well big brother Teddy, I think that little brother Bellamy is quite hungry, don't you?"

Teddy grinned up at his godfather, "I sure would be if I was him."

"You're always hungry, boy," Georg grumbled in amusement, his weathered hands picking up the worn covered book that held all of Teddy's favourite fairy tales. "Give your brother to your Dad and come up here, it's time for little boys to go to bed."

"Story first!" Teddy cheered, gently handing his brother back to his godfather, long since having given up arguing with Georg that Harry was not his Dad. His Dad was Remus John Lupin, a _Werewolf_ and very brave man. Harry chuckled as he stood, knees creaking, and watched Teddy burrow into Georg's arms, his little hands cracking the book open and flicking through the pages to find his favourite story.

"The Princess and the Pea?" Georg asked wearily. "Again?"

"Yep," Teddy agreed. "It's my favourite!"

"As you wish," Georg sighed, settling down to read a story to the boy who was like a grandson to him. "_Once upon a time there was a prince who wanted to marry a princess…_"

Harry made his way into the kitchen, allowing the rumbling voice of Georg wash over him as he puttered his way to mixing a bottle of baby formula one handed. Thankfully baby formula didn't exactly go out of date and that Georg was a hoarder of a massive degree. Testing the temperature on his wrist, Harry smiled as his new son watched him curiously, "hungry then?" He smiled tiredly as the baby accepted the teat, sucking voraciously. "I thought as much," Harry chuckled. "Drink up, I have to get your brother to bed soon."

In the lounge room Georg's story was wrapping up, his measured voice deepening as he concluded with a few final lines: "_So the prince took her for his wife, for now he knew that he had a real princess; and the pea was put in the museum, where it may still be seen, if no one has stolen it._ There, my boy, that there is a very true story," Georg concluded to the sleepy boy in his lap, the sleepy blue eyes smiling up at him. "Let's get you to bed where your Daddy can tell you a story of his own while I look after little Bellamy."

Harry traded children with Georg, scooping his leggy godson up into his arms. Teddy was so tired from his big day that he just sort of hung in his godfather's arms, head resting on Harry's shoulder trustingly as Harry navigated the narrow stairs to the tiny room below the attic that Teddy called his own. Harry lay his godson out in the bed, tugging the sheets and duvet out from beneath the unhelpful boy and drew them under Teddy's chin. Harry settled himself on the edge of Teddy's bed and rubbed his godsons' back as the boy curled up around him.

"What story do you want to hear tonight?" Harry asked gently.

Teddy shook his head, his eyes slightly wet as he peered up at his godfather. "Why did my Mummy and Daddy abandon me like Bellamy's Mummy and Daddy did? Was I a bad boy, Harry?"

Harry pressed his lips together, he could pretend that he hadn't expected this. That Bellamy's appearance would make Teddy question his own parents who had died in a war. Regarding the boy that he loved as his own son, Harry knew that tonight of all nights, he'd have to tell the truth. Or at least, a version of it. Rubbing his face, Harry sighed tiredly.

"You know the stories I normally tell you about your Mum and Dad," Harry waited until Teddy nodded, his eyes wide and trusting as he watched his godfather. "There are things I haven't told you, and I didn't want to until you were older. Some things, Teddy, are not for children to know." Harry paused, thinking, he sighed again, "your Dad, Remus was best friends with my father, James and my godfather, Sirius; you remember that, don't you?" Teddy nodded again, slowly, as though uncertain where this was heading.

Harry stilled, his hand resting heavily against Teddy's back, "they were dark times, Teddy, dark times. There was a man, who was more monster than human, who wanted to rule the world. He would stop at nothing to do so, his heart so filled with greed, pride and anger that he was blind to everything good around him."

"What was his name, Uncle Harry?" Teddy asked, his eyes wide with fear.

Harry frowned slightly, "Tom," he replied finally, not wanting to give Teddy nightmares about a man who was long since dead. "Tom Riddle."

"He doesn't sound too scary," Teddy observed, the fear in his eyes receding as his godfather rubbed his back again. "Is he gone, Uncle Harry? Did you put him in jail?"

"He's gone, yes," Harry agreed. "But I didn't put him in jail, no. I had to kill him Teddy. There was a war, two sides split between good and evil. Tom led the charge, he had all manner of bad people behind him and they slew many, many good people."

"Like my parents," Teddy whispered, understanding just where this story was headed. "He killed my Mummy and Daddy, didn't he?"

"Yes," Harry breathed, his own eyes wet with tears. "I'm sorry, Teddy, but he did. Your Daddy, he tried to protect your Mummy, tried to make her stay at home with you. There was no sense in both of them going, he said, he wanted you to have her while he went to save me." Harry ducked his head, shame and guilt gnawing at him. "Your Mummy though, she was so strong and brave, she denied that it wasn't necessary. It matters, she told him, what happens if I could have made a difference and I didn't, she asked him. Your Daddy, god he was so angry, he screamed at her, I can't loose you! I don't want to loose you too!"

Teddy stared at his weeping godfather, awed by the bravery of his Mummy and Daddy. "What happened then, Uncle Harry?" He whispered.

Harry met the awed eyes of his godson and smiled wetly, "your Mummy grabbed your Daddy's hands and told him: we go together or not at all!" Harry's eyes hazed with remembrance, "your Daddy was so proud, I could see it in his eyes, his face. He stared at your Mummy and kissed her; he loved her, so very much. They were determined to protect you. You and everyone else. So they walked onto that battlefield, their wands at the ready and they stood back to back screaming your name with every hex, spell and curse.

"For Teddy, they said, and when Tom saw them, he could see that they were turning the tide of the battle. He couldn't let that happen though, so he cursed your Daddy, but your Mummy, she was so very brave, Teddy, she saw and she jumped in front of the curse, screaming his name. Your Daddy watched her fall, and he was so very angry, he very nearly transformed right then and there! You should have seen him, Teddy, he screamed your Mummy's name and charged at Tom, he must have cut down half a dozen of Tom's followers before falling himself. Without your Mummy and Daddy, Teddy, we wouldn't have won."

Teddy stared at his godfather in shock and awe, "they saved you?"

Harry pressed his forehead to his godsons, "they saved everyone, Teddy bear!"

Teddy sighed, he didn't really understand but he was glad his Uncle Harry was still alive. The thought that his parents were heroes, while not exactly comforting, was good to know. Harry watched his godsons' eyes sink shut and his face smooth over. He didn't know if he should have told Teddy that, the boy was only eight after all, but Harry couldn't stand the idea of lying to his godson, not to Teddy. Probably not even Bellamy when he was old enough to ask questions about his parentage. Harry sighed, standing above his godsons sleeping form and knew that he was unable to be like Albus. He loved his children far too much to even think about 'protecting' them from the truth. It was real protection and it just made things more dangerous down the track. No, Harry would never lie to his boys, never, not in a million years.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

*The song Harry sings to Bellamy is called "Just be Still" and is an Irish folk song written by Luka Bloom

**The story Georg reads Teddy is "the Princess and the Pea (Prinsessen paa Ærten: Danish)" written by Hans Christian Andersen, who wrote stories aimed at children during the 18th century. Tales that he collected, much like the Brothers Grimm, by travelling around Europe and compiling into separate volumes. Most know of his stories as part of "Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes and Stories".


	2. Chapter 2: Never Gonna Let You Down

**A/N: Review Replies**

There have been some questions regarding the content of this fiction. So I thought I'd take the time to answer them.

Scififan33:

Yes, Harry's boss, Crawly, is a _Löwen_ _Wesen_, which makes him a good cop and leader. If a bit aggressive at times. I believe the term '_Wieder_' also describes him well, although that won't be explained for a while. As for transfers, they happen all the time and often happens when a police officer is unable to work well with his current partners or his boss, or is requested elsewhere, particularly by the Chief of Police. And yes, Teddy is a _Werewolf_ born, and like _Wesen_ will go through his own 'coming of age' transformation anywhere between 16-25; as for Bellamy, he's going to be a right little hellion, but that's all I'm going to say.

Dars D. Devellions:

Harry is ex-MI5, as in a magical James Bond, there will be an explanation as to why he refused the Aurors later on, so don't worry about that. As for being rich and living the high life, when you're going incognito and hiding from people, you don't buy a mansion and live with fifteen million servants. Besides which, Harry grew up with practically nothing and would hardly be used to living like a King.

VBehnke:

There will be a pairing, but I'm not saying a word about it. Though, I'll drop hints the closer we get to the 'big reveal'.

—

Okay, so I'd like to express my gratitude for everyone who read, reviewed, followed or favourited this story. Your resonse has been incredible! I mean it, not even 15 days old and I've had:

**Reviews**

12

**Followers**

54

**Favorites**

31

**Communities**

7

**Views**

471

If that's not amazing, then I have no idea what is. So thank you, all of you for your feedback and enthusiasm. It's inspiring and heartwarming.

Thanks you my friends, and the kindest regards to you all,

Sar'Kalu

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Two<span>

Never Gonna Let You Down

The tiny flat was hung with streamers, balloons and plastic, spirally things that refracted the light into a kaleidoscope of colours. Mr. Gentry's flat was packed with people, not that it was hard to do so. A seven foot tall _Löwen_ and his wife stood by the window, their hands cradling tall flutes of champagne while Jon Dempsey and his latest girlfriend were cuddled up on the threadbare couch, Jon's son, Lucas, on his Daddy's knee. The two year old was particularly distracted by the shiny piece of plastic in his hands that he kept trying to shove in his mouth, his Daddy intercepting every attempted bite, a broad smile on his features.

Teddy was sprawled on the floor, helping his four year old brother stack duplos together to form a castle for their knights and kings. They would be staging a war shortly, if Harry wasn't mistaken, Teddy, being obsessed with history, was determined to stage every single battle that had ever happened in their living room and teach his brother just where the commanders of the day had gone wrong. Mr. Gentry was quietly seated in his chair, the past years having been kind to the older man, but clearly wearing on him. Harry was dreading the day that 'Grandpappy' passed on to the Next Great Adventure.

"Dad!" Teddy whined, his adolescent voice cracking as he fended off his brothers grabby hands from snatching at the towers top, Bellamy was trying to put a knight on his black horse on the top floor. Something that was clearly offending Teddy's twelve year old sensibilities. "He's ruining it!"

"Teddy!" Harry sighed, the rush of warmth that came from Teddy's whine of 'dad' flowing in his belly and chest. "He's four, he doesn't understand."

"So?" Teddy grumbled, giving up and reluctantly allowing his brother to run loose through the various towers, castles and houses that he'd made. "It's not fair."

"Life's not fair," Harry countered, scooping his youngest up into a tight hug. "But perhaps the wriggling tot can help me in the kitchen?" Harry smirked as Teddy straightened in indignation.

"But I wanted to help!"

Harry couldn't help but laugh at his godsons foolishness. The years since Bellamy's joining of their little family had been brighter and better than ever, and Harry couldn't help but be thankful for every single second of it. The blood adoption of Bellamy on his third birthday had been preceded by a long, heart-felt discussion between Teddy and Harry, where Teddy, then nine years old, had asked Harry why he couldn't call his godfather 'Daddy'.

It had taken Harry weeks of Georg, Jon and James beating him over the head to realise that Teddy calling him 'Dad' wasn't a betrayal of Remus' memory; as Teddy called Remus his 'First Daddy' and Harry his 'Second'. Since that moment Teddy had been both overly protective of Harry, and liable to follow his godfather around like a little duckling. Harry had no illusions of this continuing when Teddy reached his teen years, but for now, he loved and enjoyed every single second of it.

"How do you do that, Anton?" Mrs. Annie Crawly asked, her expression wondering. Her own children were older than Teddy and Bellamy, but they had never wanted to help her out round the house. "I can never get Susan or Timmy to help me at home."

"No," Jim grumbled, "you just get me to do it." It was a familiar argument, and everyone surrounding the long-time couple laughed dutifully as Annie slapped her husbands arm and he protested with a mock 'ow!'.

Harry smirked as he slid Bellamy back down to the ground, holding the boys hands tightly in one while the other tapped his jeans where he'd sewn a special pocket to hold his wand, Annie and Jim both rolling their eyes, disgruntled that _Wessen_ weren't able to 'sting' their kids into obeying them. For all the preconceptions about _Löwen_ and their _Löwenbaby_, few of them were true. Protective and loyal to their young, _Löwen_ were nonetheless bad parents in that their kind were so rare that any child had a tendency to be coddled and spoilt. As Susie and her brother Timmy were. Aged 21 and 17 respectively, neither had worked a day in their lives, be it chores or part-time. Nor did their parents intend them to until their cubs had finished college. Something Harry felt was extreme and extremely strange.

"Man, one of these days you are going to tell me what that means," Jon grumbled, rolling his eyes at the sight of his Captain and Anton exchanging the usual secretive messages that no one but they could understand. It was aggravating to the large, African American that even after nearly seven years together as police officers and then detectives, that Anton had yet to confide everything with him. Yet, another part of Jon understood, his friend was extremely secretive by nature, hell, he'd not even known about Teddy until Bellamy came by, and that had been two years after they had first been partnered together. So yeah, Jon understood, but he didn't have to like it.

"So can we have cake now?" Bellamy asked his father, hanging from the green eyed man's arm, swinging about like a demented monkey, his very best puppy-eyed expression hoisted to full mast as he stared up at his Daddy. "Pleeeeaaassseeee!"

Harry laughed, picking his son up once more, baring that apple-rounded belly and blew raspberries all over. "Cake?" Harry grinned broadly, "who said there'd be cake?"

Jon slapped a hand on his thigh, his dark eyes laughing at his friend, "there's no cake!" He shouted, mock-horrified. "Right," he leapt to his feet, dragging Mary-Anne, his girlfriend, with him, "that's it honey, we need to leave this barbarians home! He doesn't have cake!"

Mary-Anne laughed brightly, scooping Lucas from her boyfriends arms, pressing kisses to the little boys smiling cheeks. "How terrible!" She chuckled, playing along. "Come on sweetie, we need to run away while we still can!"

"Nooo!" Bellamy cried, squirming in his Daddy's arms. "Don't leave Uncle Jon! Please don't leave!"

Teddy joined his brother in weighing down their favourite Uncle, preventing his half-assed attempts at leaving while both Annie and Jim hooked their arms through Mary-Anne's, pressing kisses to Lucas' cheeks as they did so. Harry watched the ruckus in surprise before hilarity won out.

Laughing deeply, Harry shook his head, ducking into the kitchen and pulling a large chocolate fudge cake from the fridge. The top was swirled with black, brown and white icing with strawberries spread aesthetically across the surface. "There's cake!" Harry laughed, setting it on the table. "What kind of birthday party would this be without cake?"

Mr. Gentry, shaking hands gripping his camera, laughed wheezily in his corner, quiet up till now but gleefully recording the sparing but joyous moments that Harry's friends and work-mates brought every birthday and Christmas. They were a diverse and silly bunch, their lives devoted to protecting their city and their beloved children. Ensuring that nothing would ever harm their fragile yet strong friend, Antioch Harrison Peverell.

"For he's a jolly good fellow, for he's a jolly good fellow…!" Jon sang off key, watching his partner light the candles with a broad grin.

"No!" Bellamy shouted, stomping his foot. "You're doing it wrong, Uncle Jon! You've gotta wait till the candles are lit!"

Jon laughed and hoisted the _Mauvais_ _Dentes_ cub into his arms, pressing a hard kiss to the boys forehead, "I'm sorry, Belly-boy, I'll do better next time, I promise!"

"Don't call me Belly-boy!" Bellamy whined, "I'm a big kid! Big kids don't have nicknames! They're silly!"

"You are a big kid," Jon agreed, feeling slightly sad that one of his favourite nephews felt that he was too 'big' for nicknames. Kids, they grew up far too fast! "But you're always gonna be my little Belly-boy; even when you're graduating from college or when you've got kids of your very own."

Teddy wrinkled his nose, "ew, kids are gross. I'm never having kids, ever!"

Harry laughed, tugging his godson into a tight hug, "I'll believe that when you tell me so when you're forty!"

"Daaad!" Teddy whined, trying to escape his godfathers arms. "Stop hugging me!"

Harry just pulled Teddy in closer and tighter, "never, my son, I love you too much to let you go."

Jon and Jim silently nodded their agreement. As parents themselves, and particularly as cops, both men were intimately aware of the protective feelings the idea of their children being endangered inspired within their colleague. No matter how old Harry's boys got, Harry would never, ever desert them and both police officers felt awfully sorry for whoever dared get between Harry and his kids. The man was like a grouchy mamma bear on a good day, neither man wanted to see Harry on a freaking bad one; they suspected that there would be a body count higher than Stalin's.

"Can we eat the cake now, Dad?" Teddy grumbled, squirming out of his Dad's arms finally, dragging his sleeve across is cheek. His Dad's kisses had a tendency to be sloppy whenever he was trying to embarrass his kids. It was so bloody gross!

Harry laughed but acquiesced, picking the knife up from the table and dutifully waiting for his friends to finish singing him Happy Birthday. Once they had, the off-key noise still ringing in his ears, the newly 30 year old pushed the blade of his knife through the unresisting mass of cake. Drawing it out, the previously untarnished steel blade was now smeared with thick, dark chocolate gooeyness, pinching his forefinger and thumb together and scraping them down the blade, Harry pressed his chocolate covered appendages into his mouth and swirled his tongue around them with a throaty groan.

"Dear Merlin," he sighed with a dopey grin, "that was…" He met Jon's expectant gaze. "Awful. You won't want any, it tastes pretty poisonous actually, I'd bette suffer through it alone."

Jon barked a laugh, the refrain typical of Harry whenever he'd found something so good he really, just didn't want to share. "Sure mate, carve it up and hand it out." His mouth was watering from the heady scent wafting his way, his boss and wife were on the edges of their seats as they waited their turn. Harry chuckled darkly but did as he was bid, handing everyone a slice of cake and watching them with hooded eyes as the lounge room was filled with the sounds of decadent moans and sighs.

"By all that is Holy," Georg sighed. "Annie, you've out-done yourself!"

"Here, here," Jon groaned, sinking his teeth into the end, the heady chocolate flavour flowering over his tongue. Saliva filled his mouth and he was forced to swallow with a muted whine, damn, he'd wanted to savour that further. "This is divine!"

Harry smirked as he took his own bite, watching his sons as they squabbled for a second piece, their tiny hands grabbing and snatching as they fought for the largest slab. Finishing his first, Harry deftly rescued the slab from his sons with a cheeky grin, taking a massive bite out of it. "Aww, man, that's sooo gooooodddd!"

"Daad!" Teddy and Bellamy whined in unison, watching their father drool over the cake they'd wanted for themselves.

"Hey, I was just saving myself from a headache later on!" Harry protested, his eyes shining.

"That's so not fair!" Teddy complained, pouting magnificently. "You cheated!"

Harry raised an eyebrow and grinned unrepentantly. "My birthday!"

"That's no excuse!" Teddy shouted back, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. "I wanted it."

Harry's face blanked slightly, his eyes shuttering as he met his eldests' petulant gaze. "Teddy, enough." He warned, "not today. Not now."

Teddy rolled his eyes and scrubbed his hands with a napkin, still bitterly angry at his fathers actions. "Yeah, whatever," he grumbled. "I never get anything."

"Oh, ho, ho!" Jim chortled, scrubbing his own hands with a tea towel, "is that so?"

Teddy met his Uncle Jim's gaze, confused. "What do you mean?"

"You never get anything?" Jim repeated, amused. "Not quite true little man." Remembering half a dozen times when Harry had put his own life on hold for his sons. If there was any fault of Harry's that drove him insane, it was his tendency to put others before himself. "Besides," Jim added, "it's your Dad's birthday and he should be able to do whatever he likes for today."

"It's still not fair," Teddy grumbled, crossing his arms and resting his chin on them. The past months had been difficult for the soon-to-be teenager, his hormones and emotions running wild, filling him with angry bitterness no matter what he tried to do to stop it. He knew his Dad wasn't being unfair, that he'd done the best possible thing to diffuse a bad situation, but that didn't mean he was actually able to reign in his emotions.

Harry sighed heavily, the joyous atmosphere of before clogging with pre-teen angst. What he wouldn't give to have his delightful little boy back, all smiles and happiness. None of this emotional anger and angst. "C'mon Ted, you promised."

Teddy winced, guilt boiling in the pit of his stomach, he had promised. Not to be rude. Not to be whiny. To be on his best behaviour. He had no idea why things were so awful right now, why he felt angry and bitter all the time. It was confusing and a tiny bit frightening. Particularly when he got so angry he wanted to hurt someone. To make them bleed. Teddy wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jumper and curled up on himself, fear and unhappiness flowering in his belly. Filling him with acid and guilt.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Teddy whispered, closing his eyes tightly and hiding his face.

Harry knelt by his sons side, guessing that his baby boy was hiding something from him, that the wolf within was manifesting itself early. It wouldn't be long now, until Teddy hit the 'growth' period. That time of his life when he would first Turn and sprout long, thick fur and large teeth. Harry sighed as he pulled his son into a tight hug, a sad smile stretching his thin face tiredly. "It'll be okay, Teddy bear, I promise you."

"I'm just so angry," Teddy moaned, burrowing in close to his Dad's shoulders, clinging to his shoulders and hiding himself from the other, curious adults that watched the usually reserved elder Peverell boy break down into thick, wracking sobs of fear and guilt. "All the time, Daddy; what's happening to me?"

Harry closed his eyes in pain, holding his boy tightly to him, his lips pressed together as he felt his baby boy fall apart, bearing himself for everyone to see. "I don't know, Teddy bear," Harry murmured softly.

"I know," Jim breathed, sighing heavily and running a worn hand down his face. "It's your awakening."

Jon stared at his boss incredulously, wondering what the hell was going on, while his girlfriend stilled, wide eyed in surprise. "Awakening?" Jon demanded, confused. "The fuck is an awakening?"

Jim froze, shocked, clearly having forgotten that Jon and Mary-Anne were in the room. Let alone Mr. Gentry, who sat calmly in his comfy armchair and made no move to even appear surprised. "Uh," Jim winced.

"Well, that cats out of the bag now," Harry grunted, hoisting his long-legged twelve year old up and into his arms before collapsing into a dining chair, muffling a grunt as Teddy thumped heavily into his chest. "God, Ted, can you be any heavier? It's like you're made of stones, boy-o."

Teddy giggled sleepily, tears still leaking from the corners of his eyes while he curled up tightly into his Daddy's arms, knowing that there was no safer place in the world. "I'm not stone, Daddy, I'm a boy!"

"You're silly, is what you are," Harry snarked in reply, rolling his eyes. He turned to Jim who was still looking guilty and shame-faced in his corner while Jon stared between the two of them suspiciously. "You want to explain this to Jon, Jimbo?"

"Don't call me Jimbo, Peverell," Jim snapped crankily. "I'm not a fucking red-neck!"

"Okay, okay, I get it, you don't want to tell me," Jon interrupted, knowing his two friends far better than they thought. "But the fact of the matter is, I'm going to find out anyway. Whether its today, tomorrow or a year into the future; and I get the feeling that I kinda need to know. So man up and someone spill!"

It took them close to two hours to explain everything _Wesen_, _Magic_ and _Wizarding_, but finally Jon stopped thinking they were crazy and started believing. Of course, it kind of helped when Mary-Anne had confirmed it, explaining that her great-grandmother had been part _Maushertz_ and that the genetics, if not the shifting, still ran strong through her veins. Which explained her original discomfort among the upper echelons of Jim's police force, most of which were members of his Pride, all of whom were _Wieder-Löwen_ and all of whom attended the same seminars on how to restrain your inner-beast.

Jon had surprisingly taken it rather well, explaining that he'd run into this guy in D.C with red eyes and a furry face during a attempted mugging. Jim quickly explaining that the guy had been a _Blutbad_, as in the Grimm's fairy tale werewolf who had eaten Red Riding Hood's grandmother, and that Jon had been lucky to survive. Harry had laughed, shaking his head at the various tales Jim then entertained them with about various_ Blutbaden_ who had been brought in for questioning, including one guy, Ricky Ramone, who had a thing for _The Ramones_ and was responsible for helping the cops bust a ring of drug-peddling _Eisbiber_. That the _Eisbibers_ had been coerced by a _Königschlange _was neither here nor there for the police at the time, considering that the people who had made the arrests were ordinary humans.

Jim was still complaining to Georg, some half and hour later as he was leaving, about the amount of paperwork this had been dumped on him as a result of sorting out the nature of the coercion and a believable excuse in exchange for truth. Going so far as to blame someone called 'Renard' for all his troubles, bitching about the man's incessant need to know everything that was going on, even in places that 'didn't belong to him'. Georg, who had revealed his own minor _Wesen_ nature as a _Kehrseite_ _Reinigen_, had simply rolled his eyes, disbelieving of the notion that there was a 'Royal' in Portland and that this 'Renard' was it. After all, it was as ridiculous as the notion of Marie Kessler, a rather infamous _Grimm_, being back on the Western Seaboard.

Once their shellshocked, in the case of Jon, complaining, in the case of Jim, and amused, in the case of Mary-Anne and Annie, guest had left; Harry and Georg both collapsed into their preferred armchairs and blatantly ignored the large amount of mess scattered around them. Bellamy had long since been put to bed while Teddy was conked out on the couch, his long legs draped over the side taking up far too much space.

Harry let out a groan of satisfaction as he stretched out his legs, arching his back as he extended his arms above his head in a massive stretch. "Man, I know that the kids love that kind of shit, but fuck am I glad that's over!" Harry grumbled, rubbing at his face.

"Well said, Harry," Georg agreed, grunting as he twisted in his chair, cracking his back with a series of loud snaps. "Ahh, that's better."

"I don't even care that it's seven p.m, I'm hitting the hay," Harry grunted, standing once more and waving his hand to send the plates and mess to their appropriate stations. The dishes to be washed, the rubbish in the bin.

Georg watched him idly, "that's handy."

"Yeah, I'd say sorry I didn't tell you, but…" Harry shrugged nonchalantly.

Georg grinned, "touché."

Harry groaned once more, not looking forwards to picking up his godson. The twelve year old was close to forty kilos now and very nearly five-five in height, all long limbs and bony joints. "Come on baby boy," Harry sighed, slipping his arms beneath his godsons long frame and hoisting the boy into his arms. "Let's get you to bed."

"Why don't you just _Magic_ him up to bed? Wouldn't that be easier?" Mr. Gentry asked as he stopped by his own bedroom door which was directly beside the kitchen.

Harry nodded tiredly, smiling, "yeah it would be. But I like being able to hold Ted whenever, so even though it'd be easier, carrying him will always be preferable."

George watched the other man climb the stairs, thinking that Harry's words summed him up perfectly as a Dad and a person. No matter how old Harry was going to get, no matter how damaged, or how many times he and his boys argue, at the end of the day, Harry Peverell will always, always, chose to pick his sons up by hand and carry them to where they need to be. Even if there were easier ways to do things, that was he'd chose because that's just who he was. And Georg Gentry could admire that. In fact, Georg did admire that in Harry. Even if he thought it made Harry a foolish idiot, he could admire that kind of dedication to a mans kids. It was impossible not to.

**xXx**

The first indications that things weren't okay anymore was a spate of killings by someone who had time, patience and the sadistic pleasure to do it properly. In Jim Crawly's opinion, it took far too long for his detectives to realise that the one common denominator between each killing was his golden boy, Peverell. Of course, but that stage, Theodore Peverell, Harry's eldest son, had been kidnapped.

Harry was furious. Revealing a side of himself that Crawly quickly recognised at the battle-hardened veteran that had survived three years under MI5 and eight years fighting a war. That Bellamy now spent his entire time with 'Grandpa Georg' in the squad room was more a matter of sensible prevention than any kind of self-preservation. Yeah, okay, so that was kind of a lie, but really, when your best detective is storming around the squad room like a mini-hurricane, you got the hell out of his way before he blew you six ways to sunday. Particularly when he didn't even need to use his gun to do so.

And then, quite out of the blue, Theodore staggered through the front doors of San Francisco P.D, covered in cuts and bruises and accompanied by a tall, blonde haired man. Harry's reaction was terrifying. The dark haired detective flung himself across the intervening twelve feet, wrapping a firm hand around the bicep of his son, pulling Teddy clear of the other mans presence and into Jim's arms before spinning around once more and drawing his gun and pinning the blonde to the wall of the bull pen.

Harry then whispered a single word int he most menacing tone of voice that Jim would later deny gave him nightmares for the next three weeks: "Malfoy!"

"Potter," the blonde man ground out in reply, his grey eyes narrow with wary anger. "Are you going to kill me?"

Harry bared his teeth, a hint of madness in his expression, "give me one good reason why I shouldn't."

"I returned your godson to you, that's why!" 'Malfoy' bit out, eyeing Harry like he was going to spontaneously combust.

"Why?" Harry demanded, tightening his grip on 'Malfoy's' throat.

"Because, I saved your godsons-"

Harry jabbed his gun into 'Malfoy's' chest, interrupting the blonde's explanation. "No," Harry panted. "Not that. Why are you here? Why did you save Teddy?"

"I am here searching for you," 'Malfoy' replied honestly. "I saved your godsons' life because it seemed like the right thing to do when I've come to ask a favour of you."

"Why are you looking for me?" Harry snarled. "Why now? After all this time, why now?"

'Malfoy' looked around the squad room uneasily, "not here. Somewhere private. Please, Potter."

Harry stared into those steely grey eyes that pled for mercy and for a chance to prove himself. Nodding sharply, Harry stepped back, holstering his weapon and turning to Teddy who was staring at him in fear. "Teddy, you okay?" Harry asked, his voice hoarse with apprehension. Teddy nodded, his eyes filling with tears. Harry slumped with relief and held out his arms. Teddy flung himself into his Daddy's embrace, sobs choking him as he tried to restrain his tears.

"I was so scared, Dad!" Teddy gasped, shaking with the force of his terror. "They wanted to hurt me. They laughed when I cried and they wanted to hurt me!"

Harry clung to his son tightly, trying to fit his nearly fourteen year old sone into his arms like the boy had when he was six. "It's okay, Ted, Daddy's got you. I'm never gonna let them get you ever again!"

As Teddy's sobs and tremors subsided, a cry of happiness could be heard as Bellamy, just woken from his nap, raced across the bull pen and collided with his big brother. "Teddy! You're back! I missed you!" The five year old cried out. "Where did you go, Teddy? Daddy was sad without you! So was Grandpappy Georg!"

Teddy's sobs choked off and morphed into grateful laughter as he picked up his baby brother, hugging the boy tightly in his arms. "I'm back now, Bells, I'm not gonna leave ever again, Daddy promised!"

"Good," Bellamy nodded seriously. "Because it was boring without you. Grandpappy kept getting the stories all wrong. He kept crying during all the happy bits!" The five year old _Mauvais Dentes_ appeared to be particularly scandalised by this piece of news, frowning quite fiercely. "Are you gonna help him get it right now, Teddy?" Bellamy looked at his brother hopefully, "please help him get it right!"

"I will, Bells," Teddy breathed, pressing his face into his brothers jumper and breathing in the little boy scent that was all Bellamy, Harry, Grandfather Georg and home. "I'll help him read every story just perfect for you, baby boy."

Harry just clung to his sons, his arms so tight around them it was almost painful, but Teddy didn't mind as he hung onto his Dad just as tightly. There was no place safer, in Teddy's mind, than in his Daddy's arms. And after a week at the hands of that crazy red-headed bitch, Teddy was in dire need of feeling safe and sound right now. So Daddy's arms were just what the doctor ordered.

Harry sighed, stepping back finally to make way for Georg, the old man dry eyed but desperate for his own hug. "I have to go now, Teddy," Harry said tiredly, running a hand through his hair. "Stay with Grandfather Georg, okay? For me?"

Teddy nodded shortly, his eyes still closed as he clung to the little old man who had been more of a grandfather to him than anything else over the years. The trust and love built between them was second only to Harry's and both Teddy and Georg adored each other. Harry knew they'd take care of each other and Bellamy.

Turning to Malfoy, Harry gestured to Interrogation One, silently asking his Captain and partner to join him. "This way, Malfoy."

Once the trio of senior detectives had left, the squad room burst into noise. The majority of police officers cooing over Harry's gorgeous family and the beautiful reunion that had played out in front of them. Several of the more 'loose' female and male officers were silently wondering who the 'blonde hunk' was and how he knew Harry, while others were resigned to going back to the boring but safe days of paperwork and procedure. Not one of them, at any time, thought to eavesdrop on the conversation. It wouldn't be worth their jobs to do so.

Inside Interrogation One, Malfoy had been quite firmly seated across from Harry, Jon standing behind him, while Jim leant against the wall watching his two detectives eyeball the only man who they knew to have gotten in and out of the terrorist camp behind Teddy's kidnap. That was, a believed terrorist camp, until Malfoy started speaking.

"Draco Malfoy, meet Captain James Crawly and my detective partner, Jonathan Dempsey." Harry said, gesturing at each man before turning to the blonde in front of him. "Why are you here?"

Draco Malfoy licked his lips nervously, a hand rubbing at his chest in a nervous tick. "I'm searching for a _Wizard_ named Peverell, have you heard of him?"

Jon made to answer only to have Harry still his words with a lifted hand. "I know him, why do you want him?"

"Because," Draco snapped earnestly, his grey eyes shining with sincerity. "He's in terrible danger."

"What kind of danger?" Harry asked, confused.

"The kind of danger that will get him killed!" Draco answered, somewhat shrilly.

"Okay," Harry said, holding a hand out soothingly. "Just relax, calm down and tell us what you mean. You're clearly worried, which for you means that whatever danger you're on about, it's practically apocalyptic proportions. So, tell me what you mean by danger?"

Draco drew in a deep breath and released it explosively. "Okay, fine." He agreed, relaxing slightly and slumping into his chair. "But this is going to require some explanation of _Wizarding_ history, okay? So bear with me." Draco pressed his hands together, his forefingers pressing into his lips while his thumbs rested under his chin, deep in thought. He let out a sigh and lowered his hands, "okay, so some thousand years ago a school was built, I bet you can guess which one."

"Hogwarts," Harry easily answered, bemused by the direction the conversation was taking. "Our alma mater, as it were."

Yes," Draco ran a hand through his pristine white-blonde hair, messing up up. "There was the fight between Gryffindor and Slytherin and we both know how that ended. But more than that was their status within the _Wizarding_ world."

"Go on," Harry directed, intrigued.

"So Gryffindor was a Prince, specifically the Prince of the Welsh Royal family at the time; otherwise known as the eighth royal house of the so-called _Wesen_ world." Draco paused, "you with me so far?"

"_Wesen_ world?" Harry echoed disbelievingly.

"Yeah, made up of these creatures that were part-human, part-animal; they're pretty much extinct now. Their aurors, known as _Grimm's_, killed them all off." Draco explained dismissively.

Harry shook his head slowly, "they're not extinct, Malfoy. They are very much alive and very, very prolific."

"I beg your pardon?" Draco asked, stunned.

"Wesen, they're quite prolific here in the States." Harry answered, "Jim here is a _Löwen_, as are several of the officers outside."

"No," Draco denied, shaking his head. "That's impossible!"

"It's really not," Harry shrugged. "My son, Bellamy, is a _Mauvais_ _Dentes_."

"You fathered one of those abominations?" Draco hissed, his eyes narrowed in disgust.

"Hardly," Harry stiffened angrily. "And my son is not an abomination!"

"They are mistakes," Draco shouted. "Half-breed experiments of a failed Dark Lord!"

Harry sat back, stunned. He couldn't pretend to be surprised that _Magic_ had been at fault of their creation, it certainly explained a lot about their minor abilities of self-transfiguration and _Magical_ manipulation. But that didn't make those of _Wesen_ blood abominations. When Harry stated this belief, Draco scoffed.

"It doesn't matter," he dismissed. "That's not the point. What is though, is the heritage of the Peverell family. They are descended from the Gryffindor's, from the eldest daughter which is how Magical abilities are transmuted. Through the first born. Why else would _Magical_ families stop at only one child?" Draco asked rhetorically, more concerned with the tale he was spinning than his audiences reactions. "That said, the Slytherin's were their stewards, their protectors. Brought over from Spain by the Roman's at the end of the first century and enforced into the Gryffindor lines care.

"Salazar was not only rebelling against his friend, he was rebelling against his Master," Draco stated, waving a hand as if this was the worst thing that could ever be done. "Of course, this wasn't known until the revival of the Peverell family some thirteen or fourteen years ago. Which is why I must find the Head of the Peverell family, Potter, this is why he's in terrible, terrible danger."

"I still don't understand," Harry said tiredly, running a hand down his face. "Why does this make him in danger? In what way?"

"Don't you understand?" Draco cried out in frustration, half-standing. "The Gryffindor's were made the rulers of the _Magical_ world after the defeat of the Dark Lord Caligula by the Lord Hadrian Gryffindor on behalf of the Roman Senate backed by the Praetorian Guards in the first century. They were so fucking grateful that the Slytherins', backers of the Emperor and his favourite gladiator tribe, were given as spoils of war to the Gryffindor family.

Then, when the Gryffindor's died out, their secondary branch, the Peverell's took over, still with the Slytherin and their secondary branch, the Gaunt's, as their servants. The Peverell's, now that they are back, are the rightful rulers of Britain. They have to be given preference over the _Magical_ Government; and no one, particularly the new Minister for Magic, is all too happy about that!

"To make it worse, it was decided that someone would be tasked with finding you, to force you to help the _Magical_ world combat this new 'threat to their freedom'." Draco made air-quotes at the end of his sentence, clearly unimpressed by his brethren's decision.

"And so, out of the goodness of your heart, you decided to find the Peverell Lord and, what," Harry snorted, "protect him?"

"Not out of the goodness of my heart, no!" Draco sneered angrily, "turns out the Malfoy family were brought over from France in order to 'spice up' the old Gaunt line, and for a while there, it worked. Until the Peverell family disappeared around the 1800's and left the Magical world in ruins." Draco shrugged in exhaustion, "as the last of the Malfoy family and as the secondary to the now-extinct Gaunt/Slytherin family lines, I am the last of the Protectors and Servants of the Peverell line. I am _Magically_ bound to find them and protect them; I have no choice."

"And if I released you?" Harry asked curiously, "what would you do then?"

"What do you mean, 'if you released me?'" Draco asked, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Harry smirked cruelly, "how did you find me, Malfoy?"

"I-" The blonde paused, discomforted. "I followed rumours of the Peverell's at first, and when that didn't work, I followed the pull of my magic. It lead me to where that red-haired bitch was holding Teddy -sorry," Draco paused again, looking extremely confused. "Theodore, right?" He looked at Harry uncertainly, "anyway, followed the pull of my magic, found Teddy -no! Theodore, and escaped with him. Made a bit of a mess too, sorry about that. And then… found you…" Draco trailed off, horrified realisation blooming in his chest. "It's you, isn't it? You're the Peverell Prince I'm looking for!"

"Apparently so," Harry agreed, amused. "I took the name Antioch Harrison Peverell upon my arrival in San Francisco thirteen years ago at the behest of the Goblins who run the central bank here. When I did so, I also changed Teddy's name to Ignotus Theodore Peverell, and upon Bellamy's adoption, christened him Cadmus Bellamy Peverell."

"Three," Malfoy breathed, shock warring with delight. His bond with the Peverell expanding with this realisation to include the two children outside. One, a born Werewolf that felt of feral anger, gradually receding fear and warm love. The second boy felt the same as the bond with his own son, joyous happiness, excitement and gleeful anticipation for whatever he had planned in the future. All good, happy and uncomplicated feelings of a preteen child. "Three Peverell's," Draco felt a broad smile stretch his lips and he could help the beatific grin he shot Harry's direction. "This is beyond anything I had hoped."

"Hoped?" Harry questioned, curious.

"The bond we have with the Peverell family, it's emotional. It helps us serve to the best of our abilities. It's a familial bond that's mostly one way, designed to ensure our obedience and loyalty. It's why Salazar was so reviled by the ensuing descendants of the Slytherin family." Draco explained, cheerful and feeling content with his lot in life. It was why the Malfoy family had always sought others to follow. He knew this now. Knew this was probably the reason why he had followed Potter so closely at Hogwarts. This was what he had been born for, the same purpose that his son would belong to when he was old enough.

"And you're okay with this?" Harry asked, cautiously hopeful.

"Of course," Draco explained, still smiling happily. "It's like, finally, I have purpose. I always knew that I was missing something, that something was lacking in my life. Something that got better with the birth of my son and the marriage to my wife. But now," Draco said fervently, his grey eyes shining. "Now I truly know what my purpose is. It is to protect you and yours, as it is my sons purpose when he is old enough to understand. A glorious purpose that I will not fail at!"

Harry felt something deep within him, a kind of stable confidence, settle down and steady. A knowledge that Draco Malfoy would never dare harm him, would kill for him, would ensure his and his sons safety. It was something, Harry realised, that he had automatically expected of the other man. As if a part of him knew that Draco Malfoy was his and his alone. That the other mans defection over to Voldemort had been the deepest betrayal and reason for his desperate desire to understand the Malfoy heirs motives during his sixth year. How he had been hurt and confused, waiting for both his conscious acceptance of the status quo and Malfoy's return to the fold.

Knowledge bloomed within his mind and Harry stood, his green eyes dark with introspection as he approached the other man, taking in the fine features and long blonde hair, seeing the echo of Lucius within those thin lips and grey eyes. Lucius who he had never trusted, who he had hated not because he was a Death Eater, but because he had failed his own and Harry's own families. Had never acknowledged, as his son had, Harry's rulership and authority. Realisation struck him and Harry felt his teeth bare, curling in feral anger, Lucius had accepted another's rule, another's authority while scorning, challenging his own.

Draco, recognising the rage that stamped itself on Harry's face, slid off his chair and knelt in front of the other man, waiting for judgement. He had known that once he'd cracked the façade that what would follow would be utter domination. He had thought that the recognition of Kingship would take longer than it had though, that he would have time to get to know the other man, his Lord, his King; not be kneeling before him, trembling as he was now, waiting for acceptance or denial.

Harry cocked his head, listening to the deep well of knowledge within him. The whisper of his ancestors who had all Mastered Death. The pre-requisite for ruling. The knowledge that every child of his line had murdered their parents or grandparents. Cutting them off from the line of strength and _Magic_ that the _Hallows_ brought them. Harry knew, as he lifted his hand and rested it on Malfoy's brow, that accepting the blonde into his service would not constitute accepting the other mans forefathers. Because Harry could not, the Malfoy Lords, Abraxas and Lucius, had lost faith, had turned from their purpose. Accepted another mans rule. Harry couldn't condone such actions. Would not.

"Renounce those who ave broken faith," Harry demanded. Eyes blazing like fire, his _Magic_ dancing around him with murderous intent. Behind him Jim and Jon had long since plastered themselves to the walls, knowing that what they were seeing was not human. Was not normal. Was part of an ancient tradition of acceptance, a kind of rite of passage. They did not dare disturb it, although Jim was more understanding than his companion, having seen similar _Wesen_ ones to draw reference from.

"I renounce those who have broken faith," Draco automatically agreed, feeling the connections to his living parents snap and the faded connection to his grandfather break. The pain was muffled by the acceptance of the Peverell bond. The bond which wanted -no, needed his health, reassurance of his loyalty and determination of his trustworthiness.

"Swear fealty," Harry ordered, the hand on Malfoy's brow sliding to his shoulder and gripping the blonde tightly. "Swear fealty, not to me, but to my line. My house. My kingdom. Swear it!"

"By the most Ancient and Noble House of Peverell, I will to the Lord, his family and his ever descending line be true and faithful, and love all which he loves and shun all which he shuns, according to the Laws of Magic and the Order of this World.

"Nor will I ever, with Will or Action, through Word or Deed, do anything which is unpleasing to the House of Peverell, on condition that the House will hold me to it as I shall deserve it and that the House of Peverell perform everything as is in Our Agreement as laid out in the Accords of Slytherin and Gryffindor, when I and my Forefathers submitted Ourselves unto the Great House and chose the House of Peverell's will."

Draco bit his tongue to keep from crying out, Harry's _Magic_, a living, sentient and forceful thing, branded itself into Draco's very bones. Melting his skin with the brand of his Lord's hand. Laying in deep the flavour of the King's _Magic_, ensuring that no matter what, Draco knew who he belonged to. It was this ceremony that Voldemort had perverted in his attempt to gain power during the 1970's and again in the 1990's in Magical Britain. It was this ceremony that Harry reclaimed as he pressed the palm of his hand into his servants skin.

But it was more than just a simple branding. It bound both Servant and Master irrevocably together. Binding them in the most pure and basic way possible. For as Harry branded Draco with his handprint, so too did Draco brand his Master's hand with a sigil denoting his personality. A brand that told Harry everything there was to know about his new servant, and to the green eyed mans surprise, it read not selfishness or arrogance but deep abiding loyalty to those he considered his.

Harry stepped out of Interrogation One, his new Servant at his shoulder, the blonde man sweeping the squad room with dark suspicious eyes as the shorter, darker haired man led him into the Captain's office where the two Princes waited for them. Teddy was exhaustedly draped over Georg, his eyes sinking shut only to be forced open with a shake of his head. Bellamy had long since given up his fight with consciousness, conked out on his brothers lap while Georg ran a weathered hand through his hair, softly reassuring the young boy that he was there and that he was safe.

"Teddy," Harry breathed, kneeling beside his eldest and enveloping the boy in his strong arms. "Who took you, my son? Do you remember much?"

"Not much no," Teddy slurred sleepily. "Just that she had red hair and was obsessed with you."

"What did she look like?" Harry asked, anxious and determined to ensure his sons safety.

"Red hair, brown eyes," Teddy said, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. "She was kinda pretty but she was mean too."

"She sounds familiar," Harry murmured, frowning.

Draco rolled his eyes, his snarky exterior back up and running. "She should do, she was your fucking fiancé for two years!"

Harry spun around to pin Draco with frigid green eyes, his mouth a thin line of pure rage that had Draco backing up and slamming into a frozen _Löwen_ behind him. "I beg your pardon?" Harry hissed, "you know who hurt my son, and you never mentioned?!"

"Well, we were a tad busy discussing reasons not to kill me," Draco squeaked, frightened of his Lords rage. "I'm sorry my King, please, forgive me!"

Harry visibly restrained himself, not entirely used to the unfettered feral rage that accompanied his baser, Kingly instincts that demanded that he smite the man in front of him. "Forgiveness granted," Harry ground out, his fists clenched. "Now, tell me, who tried to hurt my son?!"

"Ginevra Weasley, your Majesty," Draco winced.

Every window, lightbulb and pane of glass in Crawly's office exploded outwards, showering the bull pen in broken glass. In the middle of the room stood Harry, his eyes glowing with barely restrained power, and at his feet knelt Draco Malfoy, who was desperately trying to remember just why he wanted to bind himself to this man. Above him, Harry was trembling with rage and his fury knew no bounds as he gritted out a single sentence that had even the proud _Löwen_, who was his Boss and friend, cowering away from him in utter terror.

"Ginevra Weasley must die!"


	3. Chapter 3: It All Ends Here: P1

**Authors Note on _Wesen (VEH-sen)_:**

Several of my readers have asked me to include a brief blurb about _Wesen_ as apparently not everyone's a massive fan like I am. (Who knew?). So below is a list of _Wesen_ that I have mentioned in this story alongside those who may be mentioned later on. It's incomplete but drawn from 'Grimm Wiki' ( wiki/Wesen), which is probably your best bet for information on all things 'Grimm' related.

_Blutbad_: (BLOOT-baat) wolf-like Wesen, loosely based on Grimm's 'Red Riding Hood'

_Dämonfeur_: (DAY-mon-foy-er) dragon-like Wesen

_Eisbiber_: (ICE-bee-burr) beaver-like Wesen

_Fuchsbau_: (FOOKS-bow) fox-like Wesen

_Geier_: (Guy-err) vulture-like Wesen

_Hexenbiest_ (fem): (HEKS-sen-beest) witch-like Wesen, loosely based on Grimm's 'Hänsel and Gretel'

_Zauberbiest_ (masc): (TSOW-berr-beest) witch-like Wesen, loosely based on Grimm's 'Hänsel and Gretel'

_Jägerbar_: (YAY-ger-baarr) bear-like Wesen, loosely based on Grimm's "Goldilocks and the Three Bears"

_Königschlange_: (KOE-nig-schlaa-nguh) king snake-like Wesen

_Löwen_: (Lau-wen) lion-like Wesen

_Mauvais_ _Dentes_: (MO-vey dogn) sabre-toothed-tiger-like Wesen

_Maushertz_: (MOWS-herr-tss) mouse-like Wesen

_Pflichttreue_: (PFLIKHT-troy-eh) white-panther-like Wesen

_Reinigen_: (RY-ni-gin) rat-like Wesen, loosely based on Grimm's "Cinderella"

_1. Grimm_: (GR-ihmm) those descended from the Brothers Grimm who are capable of seeing _Wesen_ in their true form, whether the _Wesen_ wish them to or not. Possessing extreme strength, a gift with weaponry, _Grimms_ are the enforcers of the Wesen world; although many _Grimms_ have strayed from this calling, turning to psychopathy and murder instead.

2. The Pact: also known as the '_Gesetzbuch_ _Ehrenkodex_' or the Code of Honour, constrains _Wesen_ from exposing non-_Wesen_ people to those who are _Wesen_ and from killing Kehrseite (KEHER-zeyet). It is enforced by the _Wesen_ Council and any breaker of the Code is immediately put to death.

3. Royal Families: seven ruling houses in Europe who enforce the _Wesen_ world and help 'cover up' any mistakes. Once aided by the _Grimms_, the Royal Families are now aided by the Verat (FERR-ahrt), who are considered to be thugs and sadistic dicks, and not people you want to run into in a dark alley.

4._ Woge_: (VOH-guh) the shifting between 'human' to 'animal' that _Wesen_ do during times of extreme stress. (Apparently it hurts, badly)

So there we go, a little bit of background information for those who aren't so obsessed with the show that they can recite a large part of it without prompting... Not that I'm like that... Not at all. *shifty eyes*.

Now, on with the story; quick warning, this is a very, very short chapter and you're all gonna hate me at the end. Sorry everyone!

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Three<span>

It All Ends Here: Part One

Harry stormed into the Portland Police Department, taking the stairs two at a time, Draco and James hard on his heels; his eyes burning with fury as he stalked into the Homicide and Robbery division of Police building. Instead of storming the Police Captain's office like he dearly wanted to, Harry bowed out of the tête-à-tête to James and let the tall and equally furious _Löwen_ take over dealing with another man's devision. Draco had all but plastered himself to his monarchs side, silver eyes scanning the area for hostilities and unnatural creatures. Despite 'slumming' with _Wesen_ for the better part of two years as he aided his King and new Boss in finding Ginevra Weasley after her abduction of Theodore, Draco was still unable to see the human-animal shifters as anything but abominations.

James Crawly, six foot two of pissed of _Löwen_, scanned the Portland P.D's department of Homicide and Robbery Devision and wondered why the fuck such a tiny city got twice the amount of men that San Fran did. And no, he wasn't fucking jealous. What he was, was fucking pissed off. Spotting the cause of all their problems sitting in between a dark skinned detective and his shorter, dark haired and pale partner, Crawley really, really wanted to smack Theodore into next week for this stunt.

A tallish man of clear Asian descent wandered over, his dark eyes curious as he took in their unusual group. "Can I help you?" He asked, his tone somehow conveying that he'd rather be anywhere else than here and 'can we please hurry this up?' without sounding rude.

Crawley raised an eyebrow, sliding his gaze from where Theodore was clearly trying to avoid being questioned to the Sergeant in front of him. "I'm here to pick up one Ignotus Peverell," Crawley felt Harry at his side, tense and angry, stiffen further at Crawley divulging his sons name, but it couldn't be helped. They needed Portland's co-operation. "He was caught underage driving while trying to cross state lines."

"Uh," the Sergeant gaped, dumbfounded. "We have a Peverell, but he said his name was Theodore?"

"His middle name," Harry stated, cold fury easily recognisable in his voice. The Sergeant took a hesitant step backwards, shocked at the sight of Harry's emerald gaze and clear rage.

"Who is he to you?" The Sergeant asked, worried that the kid was gonna get killed by a police officer, because there was no way that the trio in front of him weren't police officers. Hell, he was fairly certain that the tall man in front of him was a detective of something because he certainly recognised him. Though from where, he couldn't be certain.

"My son," Harry explained, flexing his hands. "And when I get my hands on him he's not going to be able to sit straight for a week and will be grounded until he's twenty!" Harry finished that statement by breathing through his nose heavily and pressing his eye shut, clearly trying to restrain himself from doing something rash.

The Sergeant's face flooded with understanding and embarrassment. Of course it was something simple, the man was probably freaking out about the realities of his son making it out alive. The stats for underage drivers dying were through the charts and as a police officer the man was probably more than aware of that. "Right," the Sergeant hummed, twisting around to check on his colleagues. "Let me just grab the detectives questioning him and maybe they can help clear this up."

James nodded shortly, watching Draco rest a hand briefly on Harry's shoulder, reassuring the other man that his son was and would be fine. Theodore looked up, his eyes widening in fear as he spotted his fathers stony expression and James forbidding gaze, as the two detectives made their way over to his father and uncles, Theodore sank lowly in his seat and tried to hide from view.

"Detectives Burkhardt and Griffin," the taller, dark skinned man introduced, pointing first at the smaller, paler man and then at himself. "You're here to pick up Theodore Peverell?"

"Yes," Crawley agreed, shaking their hands. "James Crawley, Antioch Peverell, the young man's father, and Draco Malfoy." Burkhardt's mouth twitched at Draco's name, his eyes warming with humour.

"Crawley?" Griffin spoke slowly, recognising the name. "Aren't you HDR's Captain for San Francisco?"

Crawly nodded shortly, "I'm not here in an official capacity, however. Anton felt that he wouldn't be able to restrain himself when it came to scolding on his son."

"Understandable," Draco muttered from where he stood, watching Theodore sink lower and lower into his chair, his butt practically draping on the ground, too long and lanky to truly conceal himself. "Foolish cub."

Harry snorted bitterly, "foolish cub, maybe, but pretty sure it's a failure on my part." The dark haired man swept a hand through his hair, tangling and messing it up further. "Can I speak with him, please?" Harry asked the two detectives tiredly, his posture defeated.

"We've finished questioning him," Burkhardt agreed, his eyes suspicious as he watched the green eyed man slump in relief.

Harry made his way over to his son, kneeling at the teenagers feet and watching his sons mobile face give away his petulant thoughts. "Why Teddy?" Harry asked brokenly. "What did I do wrong to make you so angry with me? I thought we were getting better, baby boy."

"It's not you Dad," Theodore sneered, his eyes alight with cruel humour. "It's me."

Harry flinched, ducking his head. "Ted, please," he whispered. "What have I done wrong?"

The sixteen year old scowled darkly. "I don't want to do this anymore. I hate it!" The teen shouted suddenly, startling the squad room with his strident tones. Straightening, Theodore shoved his father away from him, angry and sad and frustrated, his fists clenched as he stood above the man he loved with his whole being but who made him so angry. "I don't want to be your son anymore, I want my real Mum and Dad! Not some freak who ruins everything!" Theodore's eyes were filled with tears as he struggled fro breath, sick and tired of everything. "I don't want to see you ever again!"

Crawley stared at Harry, the utter devastation on the mans face was heartbreaking. The way he seemed to shrivel up and curl in on himself spoke louder than words how much Theodore's words hurt the green eyed detective. The _Löwen_ _Woged_ in instinctive reaction to his friends pain and sadness, feeling the dark haired detective shy away from him more than he saw it. He could care less if the baby _Grimm_ wanted to shoot him, not while Harry was hurting. James stepped up to his friends side, resting a hand on the mans shoulder, his other hand sliding beneath his elbow and drawing the slighter man to his feet.

"Teddy?" Harry whispered, re-finding his voice, shock sending tremors coursing through his body. "Why?" Harry shook his head, shoulders bowed and back bent, as if he bore a terrible and great weight upon them. "What have I done to make you hate me so?"

"You never loved me," Theodore snapped shakily, stunned by the utter devastation on his godfathers face. "I was a pity case. Poor little Theodore, parentless and alone! That's all you ever do! You take in pity cases to soothe your 'tortured' soul!" Theodore made savage finger quotes, uncaring of the sight he made, leaning over his godfathers smaller form, rage burning in his eyes. "I'd rather be dead than your son!"

Harry reeled backwards, a hand out to break his inevitable fall. "You can't mean that!" He rasped hoarsely, his eyes brimming with tears. "You're my son! I _love_ you more than my _life_! I raised you from a fucking _baby_, Theodore!" Harry's mood whiplashed from shocked to furious, his green eyes blazing. "Don't you _dare_ tell me I don't love you! Don't you _dare_ blame this on me! I have given you everything, Theodore! Absolutely _everything_!"

Theodore, however, wasn't willing to back down and he bared his teeth, rage filled and aching for a fight. His wolf rode him hard, wanting to take this man, his godfather, his Dad, to task over his misconceptions but he couldn't. Determination and desperation swept over him, he had a task to do, he had to do it or- Theodore scowled, angry and hurt, unwilling to think further. He raised his hand, the small silver pistol that he had got in a gun shop resting heavily in his hand.

"Don't follow me, Harry!" Theodore ordered, sliding from the room and ignoring the sudden arsenal pointed his way. Okay, so pointing a loaded gun at his father in front of an entire building of police officers wasn't his most intelligent action, but it would have to do.

"Don't shoot!" Harry screamed, panic bleeding through his tone. "Please, don't shoot!"

James reassured his friend by lowering his weapon, he had to believe that Theodore wouldn't harm his Dad, no matter how angry he was. "Stand down," Crawley ordered, Burkhardt and Griffin obey him hesitantly and their fellow officers following their cue as Theodore stood in the doorway, fear overwhelming his every other expression.

Harry edged towards his son, fear beating a terrible tattoo in his chest. Pounding his ribs so hard he thought they might crack. "Theodore," Harry moaned, holding out his hand, desperately reaching for his son. "Teddy! Please, why are you doing this?"

Theodore stepped backwards once more, flexing his fingers on the gun and shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, Daddy, I didn't want to do this!" His eyes, amber and so like Remus', were wet with tears. "I'm sorry," Teddy whispered, looking like the baby boy who had clung to his Daddy's hands every night, begging for his favourite food; like the little boy who had sat on Georg's lap, laughing at the illustrations and stories hidden within his favourite books; like the young man who had stood on the podium, winning first place in his age group for a marathon, not three months after he'd been abducted by Ginny. His son, who he loved with all his heart.

As Theodore went to pull the trigger there was movement behind him and a tall man with short, dark hair and cold green eyes pinned the teen to his chest with one strong arm while the other thudded the butt of his gun across the boys temple. Harry let out a hoarse cry and caught his son as the boy slid from the other mans arms. Standing, his son cradled in his arms, Harry stared up at the insanely tall man and smiled brokenly, he'd spotted the man behind Teddy mid-way through the teens brokenhearted apologies.

"Thank you," Harry breathed, pressing his hand to Teddy forehead and sending a pulse of healing magic through his son. It would take the edge off his headache when he woke. As he did so, Harry closed his eyes in utter horror, fear sweeping him. "Oh Merlin, please no, not now. Not Teddy!' Tears once more rolled down his thin cheeks and he pressed his forehead to his sons and whispered a desperate prayer.

"What the hell is going on here?!" Sean Renard, Captain of Portland's HRD Department, demanded, his cold green eyes sweeping his peoples guilty and shocked expressions. "Why is there some kid, with a gun no less, holding my department hostage? More than that, why the hell did no one call me?!"

James Crawley sighed heavily, drawing attention to his presence, "that, Sean, is a very good question."

Renard let his heavy gaze rest on his, kind-of, friend and colleague from San Francisco. "Crawley," he growled, his ability to deny his desire to Woge tested to the extreme. "Why am I not surprised you are behind this."

"James," Harry whispered, his green gaze haunted. "She's here."

Draco, who was desperately trying to look as though he hadn't just tucked in an eleven inch piece of work into his trousers while avoiding Detective Burkhardt's bemused gaze, froze mid-movement and refrained from snarling like a plebeian. "She is here?" He demanded of his friend and King, "you're sure?"

"Certain," Harry breathed, towing Theodore over to a chair and setting his lanky sixteen year old son on it. "Look." He dug out Teddy's mobile and found the threatening text message, biting back a sob as he realised what was contained in the three line message.

_I have your brother. Come alone. Portland, Or; 1:00pm._

Renard joined Crawley and the two men, by the prone form of the teenager he'd had to knock out, with trepidation. Realisation took over and he closed his eyes in sympathy, the text was lear and cruel. It was a direct threat and it was happening within his jurisdiction. No wonder the kid had been so desperate to get to Portland. Desperate enough to break a dozen laws despite his father being a detective. Deep within him, Renard found himself raging and without thinking, he rested a hand on the green eyed mans shoulder, hs face stern and serious.

"You have Portland's aid, Detective Peverell," Renard stated firmly. Because there was no way this wasn't Crawley's protégé. A man who the stern _Löwen_ spoke highly and fondly of. Crawley who he owed his life to, who had helped set him up as Captain in Portland; who had denied their meeting because he was grooming the green eyed man as his successor. Now the _Löwen's_ protégé's family had been threatened, the police had been threatened and there was no way that Renard was going to take that lying down. "We will get your son back, I swear it to you."

Harry nodded, staring at the message blankly, re-reading the three short lines with intense and terrifying fear. His hand dipped into his coat pocket, calling the one number that could confirm or deny the words that blinked obnoxiously on Theordore's cell screen. The phone on the other line picked up and Harry hesitantly spoke.

"Georg?"

"_Harry_?" It wasn't Georg, it was Jon Dempsey, his detective partner.

"Jon?" Harry breathed heavily, closing his eyes tightly, fear brimming in his chest. "Where's Georg?"

"_He's in_-" Jon paused, coughed and then continued. "_He's in hospital. He had a heart attack._"

"What?" Harry whispered, horrified. "Why? How?"

"_It's Bellamy,_" Jon whispered in reply, the crinkling of paper in his hand sending icy cold dread through Harry's stomach. "_He dissolved in front of us while eating lunch. He just… crumbled. Georg couldn't deal, he just keeled over; the Doctors don't know if he'll make it. I'm sorry Harry._"

"Oh Georg," Harry groaned, leaning into Draco's shoulder as the blond pulled him into a tight hug. "It sound's like it's a golem, that what crumbled away. They do that after the magic wears off."

"_Yeah, that's what we thought,_" Jon agreed, sadly. A females voice in the background cut the dark skinned detective off. "_Or rather, that's how Astoria described it._"

"Where is he?" Harry asked his voice numb, eyes still closed.

"_There's a note_," Jon sounded a mix between terrified and furious; and Harry felt his stomach plummet to the very bottom of his shoes. "_She has him. It say's: __Potter, come alone. We have your son, every hour longer you take, we start taking out on him__. _

"_Harry,_" Jon paused once more. "_Harry, it's signed 'Ginny'._"


	4. Chapter 4: It All Ends Here: P2

Chapter Four

It All Ends Here: Part Two

Teddy was sprawled out on the _Magically_ enlarged couch in Renard's office, the bruises under his eyes speaking of sleepless nights and stressed out mornings. Harry hated seeing his son like this, in an enchanted sleep and unaware of the world around him. But currently, it was the best place for him. Behind him, Renard and Burkhardt were trying to reconciled the ease with which Harry had bent physics, with what they knew to be 'true'. While Griffin had shrugged and started to tack up large charts of the Portland area, placing pins to mark where they thought Ginevra Weasley was.

Outside the tiny office Crawley spoke lowly into his phone while his eyes flickered to the shuttered windows, the shadows of his friend and acquaintances moving around and reassuring him that everything was going to be just fine. For now at least. Draco stood guard over the entrance, waiting for James to finish, his silvery eyes hooded and dark, one hand caressing the wand in his pocket, the other was fisted and pressed to his thigh. Waiting for someone to challenge his authority and charges. Not that anyone would, not after today. Not after Renard glaring at them in complete and utter fury for allowing a sixteen year old kid to hold Portland P.D hostage. No, no one would be doing anything that wasn't writing up reports or doing their jobs. Sean Renard was too scary to disobey.

Harry straightened from smoothing back his sons hair from his forehead, pocketing his wand carefully, sliding it into his specially sewn pocket in the side of his jacket. A pocket that was reinforced with steel wire to give added protection for the fragile wood shard, the surface slick and smooth with warmth and oil. He turned, meeting Renards stern gaze and offering a weary smile, "thank you." He said calmly, feeling more at ease with his son out of harms way. "For everything," he clarified when the taller man raised a brow in confusion.

Draco preceded James into the room and locked the door after closing it and took up a parade rest-styled stance in front of it. His broad shoulders almost spanning the width of the wood and glass door, the blinds having being pulled shut to shelter them from curious eyes. Meeting Harry's wary eyes, Draco nodded slightly and then tilted his head towards the Captain and his subordinates meaningfully.

Harry nodded in reply, rubbing the tips of his fingers together slightly, worried. "James," he started, drawing the _Löwen's_ gaze briefly before continuing. "James tells me you are… trustworthy," Harry mused, pacing the length of the office and trailing his fingers along the desk, meeting Renards, then Burkhardt's, and then Griffin's gazes, weighing them carefully, testing them. "Within reason," he finished carelessly.

Burkhardt, -Nick, stiffened angrily, the slur on his trustworthiness stinging the _Grimm_ into protesting: "who are you to question me, -_us_?!" The mans grey eyes were like fire, hot and blazing angrily. "You who bursts in here, demanding to see a kid who want's nothing to do with you!"

Harry tried, he really, really did, but the _Grimm_ went too far, too early. His face hidden, Harry swung his green gaze up to pierce the _Grimm_ right through his core, giving the impression that he could see through him, could judge him and find him wanting. It was a look he regularly used on perps when they were playing hard to get. "Watch yourself _Grimm_," Harry warned the man coldly. "Your pet _Royal_ won't be able to stop me should I decide that you've out lived your usefulness."

"Pet _Royal_?!" Renard snarled, shocked and enraged by the assertion. "I am no ones pet! Who the hell do you think you are, boy?"

Harry drew himself up, haughtily and assured in his presence, an action that had Draco bowing slightly, baring the back of his neck in a move that drew the eyes of both Renard and Burkhardt and made them question whether this was such a good idea after all. "I?" Harry asked, cooly. "I am Lord Antioch Harrison Peverell, King of the Eighth House and ruler of San Francisco!"

It was the first time he had lay claim to the territory of San Francisco, after all, technically it wasn't his until he had been coronated by Draco in a lengthy ceremony on the night of a Blood Moon. It would require a long period of time, during which he would have to purify himself and his sons, which was precisely why he had not yet done so.

Renard snarled angrily, "I am the Lord of the Eighth House, boy! Granted to me by the Wesen Council itself!"

"_Magicals_ do not recognise _Wesen_ as anything but failed experiments," Draco hissed in cold reply, his silver eyes blazing, his wand pressed tightly to his thigh, the tip sparking. "Antioch is the Ruler of the true Eighth House, first made when Christianity was still young and feeble and the Carpenter not yet dead!"

"That was two thousand years ago!" Griffin, Hank apparently, breathed in shock, stunned by that particular revelation.

Draco smirked in haughty triumph, "the Peverell line has continued unbroken since the early hundreds B.C.E." Flexing his hands and checking his nails in a sow of nonchalance, "as has the Slytherin family line."

"Barring those two hundred years when it was extinct in the male line," Harry said dryly, amused. He turned to Renard and shifted his shoulders uncomfortably, "look, I get it, I really do. You've worked hard to get where you are, but technically, you're the Ninth House." He shrugged, helplessly. "It's not that I'm trying to steal your thunder here, but frankly, the tag line of my house is 'the Eighth Royal House'."

Renard pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling his anger subside. "The Eighth House is supposed to be extinct." He regarded the green eyes man sourly, "but clearly those reports have been vastly exaggerated."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, "we-ell, not really." He admitted, "up until, oh, about fifteen years ago the Peverell was extinct. Up until I got completely bored with being fates bitch and upped and ditched the _Wizarding_ world and hit up San Francisco."

"_Wizarding_ world?" Burkhardt questioned, his hands on his hips, utterly pissed off that fate was throwing him a fucking curve ball and springing something completely new on him.

"Mm-m," Harry agreed, pulling out his wand and waving it in a loop, sending _Magical_ sparks spewing from the tip. "_Magic_ is real." The green eyed man grinned, "surprise!"

James, silent up till now, shot his friend a dry look. "I hate you," he informed the other man dryly. "That's a shit way to break it to people."

"I fail to see how," Draco drawled, conjuring himself a cup of tea and a chair, comfortable in displaying his powers now the cat was out of the bag. "It's worked for the past six hundred years."

"And has anyone introduced to the, -what was it? _Wizarding_ world?- ever freaked out and run away?" Renard questioned, deadpan.

"All the time," Draco admitted. "But they were weak, so clearly they have no place amongst our number."

Harry rolled his eyes, "Draco Malfoy, my Steward and, sadly, good friend." He introduced, shooting the other man a daring look. Draco had better not start anything else. "Now, that said," Harry made his way over to the various maps that Griffin had pinned up, skirting around the _Grimm_ and _Zauberbiest_ and ignoring the way his _Magic_ flared slightly in warning when Renard leant in closer, curiosity in his eyes as he tried too look at Harry wand, his fingers twitching as if to steal it. "We need to find my son. Immediately."

"What's his name?" Hank had commandeered Renards' desk, his large fingers tapping at the keyboard while his eyes flicked between Harry and the screen.

"Cadmus Bellamy Peverell," Harry said calmly, trying to reign in his fury and _Magic_. Now would not be a good time to blow anything -or any_one,_ up.

"Interesting name choice," Renard murmured, knowing that a childs name was more often than not and indication of the traits that the parents expected the child to cultivate. At Nick's curious gaze, Renard elaborated: "Cadmus is Latin meaning 'He Who Excels', while Bellamy is of French for bel amy, or 'Fine Friend'." Renard shot the amused King a long look, "He Who Excels at Friendship? Just who is your son?"

"He is _Mauvais_ _Dentes_," Harry smirked at the shocked expression that bled through the _Grimm's_ face. "You can see my concern, yes?"

Renard snorted, rolling his eyes in amusement. "I can, although it is interesting to think that you would wish friendship, not loyalty or trust, upon your son."

"I would wish them all upon him," Harry said, spinning around to stare at the tall _Zauberbiest_. "But my son is the kind of boy that is, and always will, be a fine friend. A trait that cultivates its own loyalty and trust."

"True," Renard agreed quietly, wondering at the green eyed man and his motivations.

"Uh," Hank cut in, concerned at interrupting and thus pissing off two clearly powerful men. They turned to him, Renard more peeved than his immobile face might otherwise show while Harry was more interested and unconcerned. Right, the Boss was interesting but pretty _Wizard_ boy was oblivious, yep, he was steering clear of this shit. "Date of Birth, description and parents?"

"Date of birth is unknown, as are his parents," Crawley interjected. "He was found at a bus stop, abandoned."

Harry shrugged, unwilling but able to refute Crawley's assertion. "His date of birth is the 25th of March, 2005; while his parents are Adelaide Picot, mother; and Gaétan Livaudais, father." Harry's face was turned to the maps, his fingers tracing roads and rivers, his eyes intent on his task. "Bellamy has green eyes, dark hair and looks like myself, given that I blood adopted him not too long after his second birthday."

James gaped at his friend, "how did you find that out?"

"I didn't," Harry replied. "I wouldn't adopt just anyone, James. I did extensive checks, both magical and non- before blood adopting him. His father's the head of a crime syndicate that I… may have alerted the authorities about while his mother was a teenage girl who flew to America long enough to give birth to her son and then leave once more."

"Damn Peverell," Draco groaned, shaking his head tiredly. "You really go all out when you have yourself a bleeding hearts parade, don't you?"

Harry shot his friend a dark smirk, amused. "Don't lie, Malfoy; I've seen you with Scorpius, you're just as bad with children."

Draco flushed lightly, before tilting his head in a superior pose. "Shut up, Harry; or I'll _silencio_ you!"

Harry snorted, before turning to Griffin who was typing madly away at the computer. "Would it be easier if I gave you a photo?"

"Do you have one on you?" Hank asked, hopeful.

"Not on me no," Harry murmured, closing his eyes and thus missing Hank's disappointment. "But-" Harry paused, concentrating. Draco, who could feel Harry's _Magic_ warping and boiling around him, tried to take a step back only to have his back hit the door with a solid thunk. Harry held out a hand and released his _Magic_ with a heady surge, a piece of paper manifesting onto the palm of his hand. Holding it out to the dark skinned detective, "here, will this do?"

Hank Griffin took the photo and stared at the child in it, his wide eyes and gap-toothed grin pulling at his heartstrings. Who could hurt such a cute kid? He wondered, resting the photo by his mouse and glancing at it whenever he needed to fill in yet another box that asked for a description.

Harry smiled slightly at the detective, having heard the barely there mutter of 'who could hurt such a cute kid?', feeling more at ease with Portland's detective than he had not an hour and a half previously. "That was…"

"Difficult?" Draco rasped from where he was still awkwardly pressed up against the door. "Dammit, Harry! What part of the fact that your _Magic_ is fucking terrifying don't you get? Why don't you go and cast a fucking _crucio_ on me? It'd be more fun!"

Harry gaped at his friend and chuckled, shaking his head. "You're so cute, Malfoy; I can see why Tori puts up with you."

Draco scowled petulantly. "I should never have introduced you to my wife, Peverell; you get along far too well."

That was it for Burkhardt, the dark eyed detective having watched the pair bicker and snipe at each other for the past thirty minutes, who exclaimed: "wait? You mean you're not together?"

Draco gaped, utterly dumbfounded by the assumption while Harry coughed once, twice and thrice before giving up and doubling up into hysterical laughter that sounded a tad insane. His shoulders shaking madly. Nick flushed a brilliant red, causing the _Löwen_ to pinch his cheeks and wink exaggeratedly at him.

"I know what you mean, they're like an old married couple at times," James grinned.

Harry slid to the floor, holding his ribs which ached terribly from his hysteria. "Aw, man, don't do that to me, please Merlin, my ribs!"

Draco huffed and crossed his arms, "you're such a child, Peverell."

"A.P.B's out," Griffin announced, cutting through the thin veneer of humour like a hot blade through butter.

Renard nodded, casting a brief look at the still sleeping teen on his couch, he shoved himself upright and off the wall he'd been leaning on. "Time to debrief the squad room then."

Harry made to tail the older man on to have James pull him back, sending the two detectives and Draco before them. "What?" He demanded of his friend and superior.

"Have you considered that Ginevra won't be found until you leave this place?" James asked quietly.

"You want me to leave Portland?" Harry snarled, furious.

James sliced a hand through the air, cutting Harry off before his could get himself worked up. "No, you fool. I mean, make it look like you have left. Leave it to us, take Teddy back home." James licked his lips and shot the open doorway a suspicious look, something was moving out there, though, chances were that it was Draco. "You've said it yourself, you can apparate ridiculously long distances. It would be easy for you to return when we've found her."

Harry considered the idea, mulling it over. "That could work."

"Think about it," James pleaded, desperate to get his youngest adoptive nephew back. He had the feeling that Harry and his fury would only complicate things for all involved. "Now come, we have a briefing to attend and Renard will be terribly sad if we miss it." James smirked at the green eyed man who followed him out into the squad room. "He's always loved the sound of his own voice, Sean has."

"I heard that, Crawley," Renard snarked, switching on the projector screen and illuminating a bare white wall with a map of Portland. "Okay, listen up. We have an abducted child of a fellow police officer, according to threats delivered by letter and text message we know the boy is somewhere in Portland.

"We have no idea where."

Renard paced, his expression hard and annoyed. "We have an APB out on him and I will be contacting the Press to release a statement, get the public involved." He paused, concerned. "We know that the abductor is a woman named Ginevra Weasley, British born and approximately thirty-two years old, although she looks closer to twenty-five." Renard snapped up a picture of Ginevra that Draco had supplied him with, her brown eyes were hard and cruel and her hair was almost blood red and shoulder length.

"The woman is presumed dangerous and volatile. Orders are to avoid confrontation until a trained diplomatics officer is available." Renard paused his monologue once more, this time to shove up a picture of the boy. "This is the boy who was abducted, Cadmus Bellamy Peverell, who prefers his middle name," Renard smirked as one of his junior officers made an understanding noise in the back of her throat.

"Bellamy is the son of a San Francisco detective, Antioch Peverell," Harry stepped forwards, his eyes blank as he stared at his son's innocent face and widely smiling mouth. "He will be helping us in every way possible, as will San Francisco P.D." Renard gestured for Crawley to join him by the screen, introducing his old mentor with a sly smile. "This is James Crawley, Captain of HRD San Francisco, his orders are to be received as you would mine. This is a team effort people, lets get to it!"

The squad room dispersed swiftly, many of the junior officers shooting Harry and James curious looks while Draco made his way back to Renards office. Renard himself fielded questions, assuring his officers that this was a target specific abduction and not the result of some psycho would would be targeting all police families. Harry turned when Draco staggered out of the Captains office, his hands clutching his stomach and his face white.

"Draco?" He asked, unnerved by his friends expression and behaviour. "You okay?"

"Harry," Draco lunged forwards, grabbing his friends shirt. "Teddy!"

Harry paled and then ripped himself free of Draco's grip on his shirt, standing in the doorway of Renards' empty office with a devastated expression on his face. "Teddy!" He shouted, spinning around, his eyes wild. " TEDDY!"

But there was no answer because whoever had taken Ignotus Theodore Lupin Peverell had long since left. There wasn't even a _Magical_ signature to follow. All that was left was Draco with a knife in his belly and a utterly devastated father who crashed to the bull pen floor, tears streaming down his face as his eldest son was abducted right beneath his nose.

"Teddy," Harry whispered, burying his face into his arms, hiding from the world. "I'm so, so sorry. I failed you!"

* * *

><p><span>Authors Note:<span>

Okay, so, I'm sorry? *grins sheepishly* But all things serious, if you read and like it, drop me a review. I love hearing from you guys, it's been awesome. That said, can I just say, that this Fic, at just over a month old has, to my utter astonishment:

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**1,710**!

That's just amazing, thank you all! It's very humbling to see that kind of feedback and enjoyment, particularly since it's not very old at all. So thank you, everyone, for your kind support, I sincerely appreciate it.

Sar'Kalu


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